Which by her wildering smile he lost- (So quickly was the wrong forgiven) Had I not heard him, as he prest The frail, fond trembler to a breast Which she had doom'd to sin and strife, Call her-think what-his Life! his Life! Yes:-such the love-taught name-the first That ruin'd Man to Woman gave,
Ev'n in his out-cast hour, when curst, By her fond witchery, with that worst, And earliest boon of love-the grave!— She who brought death into the world There stood before him, with the light Of their lost Paradise still bright Upon those sunny locks that curl'd Down her white shoulders to her feet; So beautiful in form, so sweet
In heart and voice, as to redeem
The loss, the death of all things dear, Except herself and make it seem
Life, endless Life, while she was near!
Could I help wondering at a creature Enchanted round with spells so strong; One to whose very thought, word, feature, In joy and woe, through right and wrong, Such sweet omnipotence heaven gave, To bless or ruin, curse or save?
Nor did the marvel cease with her New Eves in all her daughters came, As strong to charm, as weak to err,
As sure of man thro' praise and blame, Whate'er they brought him, pride or shame,
Their still unreasoning worshipper- And, wheresoe'er they smil'd, the same Enchantresses of soul and frame, Into whose hands, from first to last, This world with all its destinies, Devotedly by heaven seems cast, To save or damn it, as they please!
Oh, 'tis not to be told how long, How restlessly I sigh'd to find Some one, from out that shining throng, Some abstract of the form and mind Of the whole matchless sex, from which, In my own arms beheld, possest, I might learn all the powers to witch, To warm, and (if my fate unblest Would have it) ruin, of the rest! Into whose inward soul and sense
I might descend, as doth the bee Into the flower's deep heart, and thence Rifle, in all its purity,
The prime, the quintessence, the whole Of wondrous Woman's frame and soul!
At length, my burning wish, my prayer,- (For such-oh what will tongues not dare, When hearts go wrong?---this lip preferr'd). At length my ominous prayer was heard But whether heard in heaven or hell, Listen and you will know too well.
There was a maid, of all who move Like visions o'er this orb, most fit To be a bright young angel's love, Herself so bright, so exquisite! The pride, too, of her step, so light
Along the unconscious earth she went, Seem'd that of one, born with a right
To walk some heavenlier element, And tread in places where her feet A star at every step should meet. "Twas not alone that loveliness
By which the wilder'd sense is caught- Of lips, whose very breath could bless- Of playful blushes, that seem'd nought But luminous escapes of thought- Of eyes that, when by anger stirr'd, Were fire itself, but, at a word
Of tenderness, all soft became
As though they could, like the sun's bird, Dissolve away in their own flame- Of form, as pliant as the shoots
Of a young tree, in vernal flower; Yet round and glowing as the fruits That drop from it in summer's hour- 'Twas not alone this loveliness
That falls to loveliest woman's share, Though, even here, her form could spare From its own beauty's rich excess Enough to make all others fair- But 'twas the Mind, sparkling about Thro' her whole frame-the soul brought out
To light each charm, yet independent Of what it lighted, as the sun
That shines on flowers, would be resplendent
Were there no flowers to shine upon'Twas this, all this, in one combin'd,
The' unnumber'd looks and arts that form
The glory of young woman-kind, Taken in their first fusion, warm,
Ere time hath chill'd a single charm, And stamp'd with such a seal of Mind, As gave to beauties, that might be Too sensual else, too unrefin'd,
The impress of divinity!
"Twas this a union, which the hand Of nature kept for her alone, Of every thing most playful, bland, Voluptuous, spiritual, grand,
In angel-natures and her own- Oh this it was that drew me nigh One, who seem'd kin to heaven as I, My bright twin sister of the sky--- One, in whose love, I felt, were given The mix'd delights of either sphere, All that the spirit seeks in heaven, And all the senses burn for here!
Had we---but hold---hear every part Of our sad tale---spite of the pain Remembrance gives, when the fix'd dart Is stirr'd thus in the wound again--- Hear every step, so full of bliss, And yet so ruinous, that led Down to the last, dark precipice,
Where perish'd both--the fall'n, the dead!
From the first hour she caught my sight, I never left her---day and night Hovering unseen around her way,
And mid her loneliest musings near,
I soon could track each thought that lay,
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